Splitting the Bill

As prices have soared, a lot of seniors have felt the pinch and are trying to compensate in many ways, including less traveling and more shopping at the Grocery Outlet.

However, there's one social and cultural consequence of this financial downturn that hasn’t been reported yet. And that’s how the economy is affecting the age-old tradition of splitting the bill.

My wife Wanda and I went out to dinner with our friends, Fran and Dan. (These are not their real

names, but their real names also rhyme.) After the meal was over and the bill came, I assumed we were going to split it down the middle as we usually did. However, Fran and Dan looked at each other for a moment and then Dan said, “You guys should pay for 60% of the wine.”

“What do you mean? We had a bottle for the table.”

“Yes,” said Fran. “But you had one more glass than us.”

“I didn’t know you were counting,” I replied.

“We weren’t counting,” Fran said. “We were just keeping track.”

And then she and Dan nodded their heads in unison. There’s possibly nothing more annoying than people with rhyming names nodding their heads in unison.

I didn’t want to linger on this encounter, but my wife, who never met an argument she didn’t like, dived right in. “Your halibut was more expensive than my chicken,” Wanda told Fran.

“Yes, but you had some of my halibut,” Fran replied.

“You offered it to me,” Wanda countered.

“Only because I didn’t like it,” Fran explained.

“If you didn’t like it why should we pay for it?” Wanda asked.

“Because I was planning on taking it home,” Fran responded.

“You didn’t like it, but you were planning on taking it home?”

“With a little mayonnaise and a lot of ketchup I wouldn’t have been able to taste it.” 

Fran mentioned that Wanda and I ate an extra piece of bread. 

"The bread came with the meal," I said. 

"Yes," said Fran. "But you ate more." 

And then Dan added that I had a side salad.

“So? That comes with my meal,” I said.

“No, it’s $2.25 extra,” Fran chimed in.

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

Actually, I did know it, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

The calculations went on and on and then we got to the tip. I wanted to leave 20%, but Dan said

he only wanted to leave 5% because he didn’t like the way the waiter looked at him.

“He didn’t look at you at all,” I retorted.

“Exactly!” Dan exclaimed.

Fran then suggest that Wanda and I leave a 25% tip, they would leave 5%, and it would balance out. At that point I agreed. I would have agreed to anything to get out of that restaurant.

On the way out to my car - it was my turn to drive - Dan said he hoped I didn’t think he was being

cheap. “It never crossed my mind,” I lied.

 “I was just trying to be fair,” Dan said as Fran bobbed her head in agreement.

“No problem,” I replied.

“It’s just the times,” Dan went on to say. “Money is tight and it’s making everyone a little crazy.”

“I think you were right in itemizing the bill,” I told him.

“Thanks for understanding,” Dan said.

We then all got in my car and I charged Fran and Dan $10 for gas.

Each.